


its not fucking weed you piece of shit stoner

by NortheasternWind



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games)
Genre: (but consensually XD), Bondage, Enthusiastic Consent, I PROMISE TALION IS HAVING FUN TOO FFF, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Second Age, Sex Pollen, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27485749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NortheasternWind/pseuds/NortheasternWind
Summary: Second Age AU, Celebrimbor ties Talion down, drugs him and fucks him. All consensually though! :D
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Talion (Shadow of Mordor)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	its not fucking weed you piece of shit stoner

**Author's Note:**

> remember that second age au i posted. i have like ten thousand more words written, but it's all out of order so I can't post it. As apology, have porn.
> 
> The basic premise is that Celebrimbor's family doesn't exist and has been replaced by Talion, who is from a nomadic group of humans looking to settle down in Eregion so they don't have to deal with All That. They are both instantly smitten because I'm aro and a grand time is had by all, except Sauron, who has slightly more difficulty seducing Celebrimbor than he expected.
> 
> In this fic married elves can feel each other's emotions and see into their minds and shit. Iralas is just a friend's homemade word for sex weed, LMAO.

By the time Celebrimbor has finished putting on his armor the waves of Talion's lust have swelled too high to be ignored.

He smiles. For all that he has dreamed of Talion atop him since the moment they met, this is a night he is certain to enjoy. He reassures Talion in his mind that he will not have to endure much longer, readjusts his clothes unnecessarily just to tease him, and finally returns to their shared room.

Celebrimbor stops in the doorway to admire his prey. Talion has been stripped bare to the chest and tied to the foot of their bed, kneeling upon the ground with his arms stretched to either side. He is gagged, for now, with a simple sack filled with iralas, and though he is still clothed from the waist down it is clear to anyone with eyes what sort of relief he needs.

Talion looks up at him with wide, dark eyes, jerking against his bonds and letting out a short and helpless noise.

Just as Celebrimbor has admired Talion's wild beauty, so too has Talion dreamed of a lordly elven prince claiming what is— and has always been— his. He sees himself in Talion's mind, standing tall and fully armored, so much stronger than the mortal man tied down with his legs apart.

“You have always been my favorite,” Celebrimbor tells him: playing his role, but also speaking a secret, forbidden truth.

Talion breathes heavily around his gag, struggling weakly against the ropes. Whatever Celebrimbor wishes to do, there will be no escape.

He kneels to look Talion in the eye, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear with a gloved hand. Talion leans into his touch and whines.

“I could untie you now, I think, and you would make no attempt to escape.” Celebrimbor snatches up a fistful of Talion's hair, eliciting a muffled cry. “My other snares have dug too deep for that.”

Talion nods as best he can while so restrained, and Celebrimbor releases his grip. Talion’s head falls forward, but he cannot keep his eyes from his lord’s beauty for long.

Celebrimbor ignores him. Predictably he himself is quickly becoming excited, and if he wishes to drag this out he must control himself. He caresses Talion's face again, then slides his hand down the side of his neck, slowly, slowly over his chest. Talion's chest hair has been the source of much fascination, and fixation, so Celebrimbor takes a moment to run his fingers through it before settling his thumb at Talion's nipple.

Talion moans around his gag and presses forward into Celebrimbor’s touch, whimpering as Celebrimbor begins to rub. His eyes drift shut: he is the image of lust.

“I have barely touched you, and already you are hard.”

This is because of the iralas of course, but he enjoys imagining that it is the simple effect of tying Talion up and forcing him to wait. Talion merely mumbles assent through the gag.

“I've always enjoyed looking at your chest,” Celebrimbor admits, once again honestly. “I have imagined pulling your shirt down, tracing the lines of muscle. Tracing your hair, until I find its end.”

He fulfills this wish as he speaks, using his free hand to caress lower and lower, until Talion is straining against the ropes to bend closer to him. But he has no intention of touching Talion yet: instead he removes both his hands, tugs Talion's head back by his hair, and sinks his teeth into the skin of his throat.

Talion's muffled cry sends more heat rushing downward, but Celebrimbor is better with his restraint today. As Talion bends toward him, rubbing uselessly against the cold steel of Celebrimbor's chest plate, Celebrimbor trails biting kisses down his throat and along his shoulder, to his arm. Talion's biceps bulge with the effort of his attempts to free himself, and Celebrimbor teases him with one light kiss there.

“You are far too eager,” he murmurs into Talion's skin. “Perhaps I should take the edge off your need, first.”

Talion does not react, only pants helplessly through his gag. His eyes follow Celebrimbor as the elf lord stands, and widen as Celebrimbor braces his boot against the foot of the bed.

He's wearing softer leather as opposed to his usual metal high boots today, and Talion's hips rut against him of their own volition as Talion moans. Celebrimbor can't quite help a smile, so he turns it into a smirk instead.

“Go on,” he encourages, just a touch smugly. “Please yourself, so I need not think of you while I have my way with you.”

Talion moans and moans, thrusting helplessly against his leg. The sheer indignity of it, and the soul-deep knowledge that Talion enjoys being so compromised before him heats Celebrimbor in a way little else does: they both have their pride, but it pales in comparison to the strength of their bond. Their need for each other.

Talion’s moans become muffled cries, his lust overtaking him, and it is not long at all before he screws his eyes shut and nearly screams as his finish drags him under. Without knowing it Celebrimbor closes his eyes and groans: he can feel every thrust, every spike and swell of Talion's need, and for a moment he must abandon all thoughts of Talion as he drags himself back under control.

They are both panting as Celebrimbor returns to himself, Talion resting his head against Celebrimbor’s leg, his hips jerking forward erratically.

“You test me,” Celebrimbor tells him, stepping back.

Talion's head falls forward for a moment as he catches his breath. When he looks up again his eyes are just as dark as when Celebrimbor arrived.

“I don't like the look of that gag on you,” Celebrimbor says, reaching down to pull it loose. “I will find something else to fill your mouth.”

“No,” Talion says the moment his mouth is free.

It is such a rare occurrence that Celebrimbor actually stops short for a moment. But after finding neither a request nor apprehension in Talion's mind he tosses the gag carelessly to the side and yanks Talion's head back by his hair.

“What?” he asks sharply.

“Ah! M-my lord, I only— Please, my lord, I want to feel you inside me,” Talion says breathlessly, eyes pleading. “I need it, my lord, I beg you.”

“You are in no position to be making demands.”

“Please!” Talion cries. “Please, please, oh, my lord— I am yours, only yours, your eternal servant— please claim me, make me yours, my lord, please!”

“Stop,” Celebrimbor says, because he will lose himself if Talion continues. He takes a breath, disguising it as a sigh. “Very well. Behave while I prepare you.”

“I will,” Talion promises, and Celebrimbor smiles. They will see about that.

He leaves Talion there to go to the bedside drawer, where they keep the toys and the oil. He pauses a moment, deliberating, but eventually decides on just the oil like he'd planned. Talion cannot follow him with his gaze; he is reduced to waiting, drawing in gulps of breath now that his mouth is free. Celebrimbor returns, kneeling before him and pulling a glove off.

“Behave,” he warns again, wetting his fingers and enjoying Talion's expression as he realizes Celebrimbor is not going to free him.

“Yes, my lord,” Talion responds.

Celebrimbor smiles, and with his clean hand caps the bottle and draws Talion toward him for a kiss. Talion’s response is hungrier than he expected: he must have quite the amount of drug in his veins, to have heated again so quickly.

He moves his hand down, flattening it against the plane of Talion's back, and then lower, slipping beneath Talion's pants and underclothes. Talion shudders against him, and Celebrimbor reaches down his back with his other, oil-slicked hand as well.

He nips at Talion's lip as he teases the cleft of his cheeks open, and Talion jerks with a startled whine.

“Behave,” Celebrimbor warns again, and presses his fingers to Talion's hole.

Talion moans long and low, arching into his touch. Celebrimbor claims his lips again as he circles Talion's entrance, gently opening him, swallowing Talion's increasingly needy moans. He startles a gasp out of Talion by clutching at a cheek with his other hand, and then a shout by removing it to twist a nipple.

“Behave,” he reminds Talion teasingly, and goes to work.

Talion is nearly immobile in his imprisonment, able to do nothing but accept the assault on his senses: Celebrimbor’s lips on his, Celebrimbor’s armor against his chest, his clever hands working him open. Celebrimbor slowly inserts a finger and Talion moans helplessly into his mouth, trying in turns to push himself back on Celebrimbor’s wet hand and forward onto his lips.

Playing with Talion is one of Celebrimbor's greatest joys. He prods deeper and deeper into him, works his nipple into a hard peak, invades Talion's mouth with his tongue, and Talion can do nothing but weather it all. He can feel the ache of Talion's length through their bond, hard and ready again. Iralas is truly a wondrous thing.

Celebrimbor pulls himself from Talion's lips to press his own just below Talion's ear. He wishes to hear his husband's voice as he adds another finger.

“My lord,” Talion gasps.

“Behave, Talion,” Celebrimbor says one last time, and then presses his fingers into that useful little spot within him.

Talion shouts, and Celebrimbor seizes his advantage, biting and pinching and thrusting mercilessly into Talion. With every thrust of his hand Talion's shouts become louder and more desperate, more and more beautiful to Celebrimbor’s ears.

“My lord! S-stop!”

Talion quite clearly tells him without words that he is not to stop, and so he does not.

“My lord, please,” Talion goes on. “Please, stop, I—”

“This was your idea,” Celebrimbor growls into his flesh, and Talion thrusts against him.

“Please! My lord, you must, I'm about to—”

“I haven't touched you.”

“Please, my lord, please, yes! Yes, my lord—!”

Talion comes untouched, convulsing in his arms with a strangled yell, and Celebrimbor grits his teeth against their shared pleasure, seizing his own length with a hand in an attempt to stop his own release. He is not finished yet, but— soon. Soon.

Talion's head droops onto Celebrimbor’s shoulder. “I… My…”

Celebrimbor takes a breath, so that he might recover first. “A pity. This was your wish, after all.”

“Forgive me,” Talion gasps. “M-my lord. I was…”

“Too eager again,” Celebrimbor finishes, parting from Talion and reaching for his knife. “But still you have not served me to my satisfaction, so I shall finish what I have started.”

“Yes,” Talion breathes. He nearly collapses as Celebrimbor cuts him free.

For a moment Talion merely sits there on his hands and knees, clearly still overcome. But when he recovers he looks up with a familiar determination, and reaches out to lift Celebrimbor’s maille.

“No,” Celebrimbor interrupts. “You first. Undress.”

There is a lance of need from Talion at that. Talion is not finished either.

Celebrimbor undoes his belt with as much casual ease as he can muster, watching Talion delicately shuck the last of his clothes. His knees look as though they will need attention later, but there is not a thought of complaint to be found anywhere in Talion’s mind.

Talion turns around and braces himself against the bed, bending over to present his behind to Celebrimbor. Celebrimbor laughs, stepping forward and seizing his hips with both hands.

“Good,” he says simply, and then sinks his length into Talion's entrance.

This time he has little mind for Talion's reaction: he hears both Talion's moan and his own, but he has put off his pleasure for far too long. His first slow thrusts are torture, no matter that he must try to work Talion back to excitement, and when next Celebrimbor thinks to check himself he is dragging Talion back onto his length with wild abandon.

“Yes,” he moans, and pulls Talion off to thrust into him again.

Yes, yes— Celebrimbor artlessly takes Talion from behind, his head thrown back, his hips thrusting forward of their own will. Talion is slick and wet and ready, and good, too good against Celebrimbor's flesh, too warm and inviting, begging to be abused, and Celebrimbor obliges him: his fingers press bruises into Talion's hips, his nails carve half-moons into his skin.

When he can hold back no longer Celebrimbor pushes Talion further onto the bed, where the soft covers will surely please his aching length, and aims himself. Their shouts join with every thrust, each man’s pleasure pushing the other’s higher, further and faster and faster, and finally—

Finally with a hoarse cry Celebrimbor finds his end, though before or after Talion he cannot tell: they are bound too closely, too intimately, and for a small eternity it seems as though they are but one soul in two bodies, sharing in boundless joy.

He rocks steadily into Talion, guiding them both through their climax before slowly, slowly coming to a stop. Poor Talion is exhausted, but happily so: Celebrimbor’s own chest aches with exertion in a way that he has come to appreciate.

Celebrimbor brushes reassuringly against Talion’s soul with his own, and receives a tired caress in response. For a moment he considers neglecting the cleanup so he may hold Talion right this second, but Talion’s dubiously amused response changes his mind.

Instead he gently turns Talion to lift him into his arms, and sets him down further up the bed with a kiss. “Well done, dear Talion. In a moment.”

Talion is still largely insensate by the time Celebrimbor is finished and slips into bed with him, but he is still aware enough to tuck himself sleepily into Celebrimbor’s arms.

“No cuddling tonight?” Celebrimbor asks, amused.

“M’ tired,” Talion mumbles into his shoulder. “Touch me while I’m sleeping.”

Celebrimbor laughs openly, rearranging Talion to be more comfortable in his arms. “In the morning, then. Goodnight, indonya.”

Talion smiles against him. “G’night, verunya.”

**Author's Note:**

> title is, of course, most likely pending. please help me


End file.
